


Shut Down

by bacondoughnut



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Comfort, Dani Powell is a Good Friend, Dissociation, Episode: s01e11 Alone Time, Good Parent Jessica Whitly, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell Friendship, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Missing Scene, Muteness, One Shot, Protective Gil Arroyo, Shock, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacondoughnut/pseuds/bacondoughnut
Summary: His team is here.That's all he needs to know, and then he knows he can stop fighting so hard. It's not so much that he wants to do it, as much as it is that his last reason for pushing back has finally vanished. His brain relinquishes control.Malcolm starts shutting down.Or; What happens after Watkins is taken care of, and the Whitly family is safe. A scene fill for Alone Time.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 132





	Shut Down

Shock is the body's response to a life threatening situation.

He doesn't have the objective focus or the mental energy to know what kind it is right now. Funny enough, that's probably a side affect of the shock. Which might be physiological; hypovolemic. He's already lost a lot of blood. He's still losing more. Might be psychological. Emotional.

All Malcolm knows for sure is that his body is telling him to shut down.

Or maybe his mind is.

The truth is, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because he's been trying to fight it. For his mother's sake and Ainsley's, although he thinks Ainsley's unconscious now. She held on long enough to hug him and then sat, wobbly-legged and fatigued, down on the floor. Rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

That seems like a good idea.

Malcolm doesn't make it as far as the wall though. He can already feel his knees beginning to buckle, and he just manages to declare a warning of, "I'm going to collapse now."

And he's distantly aware of his mother nodding, of his legs caving out from underneath him. Of her hands catching him and easing to the floor as carefully as she's able.

But he feels heavy, heavier than he ought to be, and despite the warning he surprised her, and he still hits the floor with a resounding thud. The movement hurts but he can't find it in him to care really.

Around then, the voices arrive, and the footfall in the distance.

"Jessica!"

He knows that voice. Thank god.

"Gil!" His mother calls back, moving as if to stand but halting. Unwilling to take her hands away from Malcolm's shoulders. An action he appreciates, as it's probably the only thing holding him up at this point. "In here!"

It's more than one pair of footsteps that he can hear. The distinction becomes clearer the closer they draw. There's more of them, which means--

"Bright? Oh my god, Bright!"

"What happened?"

"Where's Watkins?"

His team is here.

That's all he needs to know, and then he knows he can stop fighting so hard. It's not so much that he wants to do it, as much as it is that his last reason for pushing back has finally vanished. His brain relinquishes control.

Malcolm starts shutting down.

His mother is crushing Gil in a hug. They're talking. Urgently. He hears Watkins name being passed between them, along with his own. His mother gestures towards the hallway, towards Watkins where Malcolm left him. But when Gil turns it's not through the doorway that he looks, it's back at Malcolm. His expression unreadable.

Or maybe Malcolm just can't find it in himself to read it. Because he can't even muster the strength to jump when a hand comes unexpectedly down on his shoulder.

He just stares blankly ahead.

Gil and his mother wobble out of focus just as Dani's face appears in his line of vision.

"Hey," she says. "Bright, look at me."

He thinks he listens. He can't say for sure, because it it's her he looks at, she's out of focus too. Less like he's seeing with impaired vision, more like he's looking at her, and everything else, through eyes not his own.

An outside party. A witness and not a participant.

Across the room he can make out JT. He's crouching in front of Ainsley, holding something up to her head. Something fabric. He's talking, but Malcolm doesn't register the words. He thinks about asking how she's doing, but he never hears himself ask the question.

The hand vanishes from his shoulder in favor of pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way. A fresh pressure appears at his side, staunching the blood flow. He hears the intake of pained breath without immediately registering that it's his intake of breath. At the very least, the spark of pain sets the fog a little more at bay.

Dani's other hand appears, tentatively, at the side of his face. It's supposed to be reassuring, maybe. Malcolm doesn't even feel it, although his face tilts in the direction she guides it.

"He's in shock," she tells someone. Then, "Bright? Look at me. How long have you been bleeding?"

'A while,' is what he means to answer but he doesn't feel his mouth move.

"Alright, we need to get him taken care of. Where the hell is that ambulance?"

Gil sounds angry. No, impatient. Worried.

"Bright, talk to me," Dani says. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He shrugs. It's the most he can do.

Dani opens her mouth as if to ask again, but it's his mother's voice he hears next, saying, "His hand."

"Okay," Dani says, nodding firmly. "No other bleeding, though?"

Any other injury would be considered superficial, if he's going to bleed out while they treat it. It's a good question. One that she's directing back at his mother and not at him.

"I don't--" she starts. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

Dani's eyes are back on him.

Right, she needs him to answer.

"Kid," Gil says, appearing at Dani's side. "Paramedics are on their way, but I need you to talk to me. Are you bleeding anywhere else?"

He still can't gather the energy or the focus for words, but he manages an answer. Forces himself to shake his head. It's small, but it's confirmation, and they must understand because they don't ask again.

"What happened?" Dani asks.

She has to know he's not going to answer. It's too many words, he can't tell her the story right now even if he wanted to. He doesn't want to tell her what happened, he doesn't even want to think about it.

Wouldn't know where to begin.

She's looking into his eyes. Searching for something. Or, he thinks she might be.

What exactly she hopes to find is beyond him, and he can't will himself to worry whether or not he wants her to find it. But his own gaze betrays him. He still can't see her, not really.

The things his eyesight registers and the things his brain is willing to process are no longer connected to one another.

Distantly, he can still hear her. Talking to him, frantic and reassuring and then frantic again. He should answer her. He's only adding to her worry. Everyone else's worry, too, because he thinks it's not just her voice that he's hearing.

"It's gonna be okay, kid," Gil says.

And Dani, "Bright? Stay with us, okay?"

He'll do his best.

* * *

He's not sure how long it actually takes the paramedics to arrive.

It feels like an hour and it feels like seconds, and the truth is probably somewhere in between the two.

Dani doesn't stop trying to get him to talk to her the whole time, nor does Gil leave his side. His mother passes anxiously back and forth between him and Ainsley, he thinks she tries talking to him too.

Somewhere at the back of his head is the thought that he should comfort her. Answer Dani and acknowledge Gil.

But it's not a desire he can even begin to acknowledge. Malcolm's not wholly convinced he's actually here. In fact, he's almost begun to wonder if he died after. If he's not, in fact, watching this scene play out as a specter.

Except he doesn't believe in ghosts, and anyway, they're not acting like he died. They're speaking directly too him, he just can't push through the fog enough to answer.

When the paramedics show up, Dani and Gil are shoved aside.

Neither of them seem particularly happy about this development, but they step out of the way with practiced ease. Malcolm sways when the phantom weight of Dani's hand on his cheek disappears, although he's sure she must've dropped her hand away some time ago. He's hit with a wave of nausea and he feels himself sway.

The EMTs are asking him questions and he knows that those, he's really supposed to answer.

His mother steps in to answer for him where he doesn't. He's too numb to be grateful.

One of the paramedics tells him he may be in shock and if he weren't so vacant he might laugh.

* * *

Everything from the ambulance ride to waking up in the hospital is a blank.

He might have passed out, but he also might just not remember.

Regardless, the first time he wakes up he doubts he's supposed to be awake. He jolts awake just as a figure, once Watkins now his father, drives a knife into his lower abdomen.

He takes in a ragged breath, staring ahead. Taking in every detail of that barren, cream colored hospital wall. But when he closes his eyes he's back there. First running through the woods with a knife in his hand, then chained to the floor, bleeding out.

He's so absorbed in the past he doesn't pay any attention to his actual surroundings.

Doesn't realize he's not alone in the room until there's a voice saying, "Whoa. Bright, you good?"

She doesn't need to ask what happened. It probably doesn't take a detective to figure out what woke him, and he's well aware he doesn't exactly have the most subtle nightmares.

"Bright? Hey, can you hear me?"

He opens his mouth to answer her, but the words don't come. His own head is still betraying him. He can't even will himself to turn and look at her, all he just keeps staring blankly ahead. Looking at the wall, seeing anything but.

The concern is evident in her voice when she says his name again. He can't make himself answer.

She leans around to wave a hand in front of his face. Maybe she's wondering if he's still sleeping. "Come on, don't do this to me, Bright. Answer me. Malcolm?"

It throws him.

He manages a small nod. It feels less than convincing.

"Okay," Dani says skeptically. "C'mon, back to sleep. Doctors said you need to rest."

He knows she's right, but he can't seem to make himself move.

She taps his shoulder, her touch featherlight. It's a question, he thinks. A warning. Because, when he doesn't immediately tense or flinch away, she puts a hand at each of his shoulders and guides him back against the pillows.

* * *

The next time he remembers waking, it's his mother in the chair at his bedside. She's holding his good hand lightly in hers, absently typing something on her cell phone.

Gil's asleep in a chair by the doorway.

"Morning," Malcolm mumbles, already moving to get up.

They have him on some type of painkiller or another. He knows because the ache he's feeling in his side should be a shiny chrome but it registers as a dull pewter. He does feel a little lightheaded.

"Oh thank goodness," his mother says, immediately setting her phone down in her lap. Her free hand comes to join the other, clasped warmly around his wrist, and she says, "You're up. How do you feel?"

"Like I have about ten stitches in a stab wound in my left side, and someone took a hammer to my metacarpals," he tells her, with what he hopes is good humor.

"Don't be so dramatic, darling," she says with a scoff. "It was only seven stitches."

"Oh, well in that case."

He laughs, mostly for her sake, and mostly manages to hide the wince. She chuckles along with him, but he gets the feeling she only does it for him. Quite the pair they make.

He allows the silence a moment to fester, then says, "I'm sorry."

She looks scandalized. "Whatever for? Malcolm, you saved us. Your sister and I. And you came back to us safe and so--well, you came back to us. You _survived,_ and for that, I am more than grateful."

"It's my fault you were in danger to begin with," he tells her, pushing himself to sit up, despite his mother's silent protests. "He went after you because of me. And I should've known, I should've been able to catch him sooner. Before it got this far. But I let him get inside my head, I--I wanted answers so bad, and I almost--"

He cuts himself off, unwilling or unable to finish the thought.

He almost got them killed. His family. He nearly lost them. If he'd been three or four seconds later in getting up there, he would have lost them. Just the thought of it shakes him to his core.

"Malcolm," she says in indignant disapproval. "You have nothing whatsoever to be sorry for."

He's not totally sure he agrees, but he can tell by her eyes that she won't stand for an argument. But he can't bring himself to agree, so he settles for the next best thing. Deflection. A joke should do it. He sighs and says with mock remorse, "I bled on your favorite carpet."

"An offense I'm willing to forgive, if only for you, dear," she says, reaching a hand out to brush through his hair.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Gil's voice answers easily. "That carpet was hideous to begin with."

His mother gasps. It's tough to tell how much of her offense is actually feigned for humor.

Gil stifles a yawn as he gets up out of the chair, stretching momentarily before approaching the bedside. His movements are stiff, his eyelids heavy, but what's more of a giveaway than that is the remnants of dried blood still staining the hem of his sweater. Malcolm makes a mental note to buy Gil a new sweater to replace it. He's pretty sure it's his blood that ruined it, after all.

He doesn't think he has to ask, but he does. "Have you been here all night?"

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised anymore. Maybe he isn't surprised anymore, not as far as his mother and Gil are concerned. They're the two people in the world he knows he can always count on.

He has to admit he's somewhat floored, though, when Gil answers, "Dani and JT, too. Nurses made them leave when Jess got back from your sister, said the room was too crowded, but they'll be back."

When Gil says it, he remembers Dani's presence last night. Calming him down from a nightmare. Pulling the blanket back up over his shoulders when he threw it off.

"How is Ainsley?" he asks.

He's certain she's fine. Gil's voice was casual when he mentioned Jessica visiting Ainsley's too last night for anything to have happened. And his mother is still far from relaxed, but she wouldn't be this at ease knowing Ainsley's health was at any serious risk. Still, he has to hear it.

"She's doing good," Gil says, with a nod. "She's strong, just like the rest of her family."

"Probably thinking up a way to do an exclusive on her own attempted murder," his mother says, with mock dismissiveness. He catches the flicker of concern behind her eyes. The way her voice wavers at the last two words.

Gil has to notice it too, because he puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She covers it with one of her own, taking in a steadying breath before giving a small nod.

After a second, she nods once more and gets up, saying, "I should go back and check on her. She'll want to know how Malcolm is doing. Will you stay with him?"

"Sure thing," Gil says with practiced ease.

"He doesn't have to. You don't have to," Malcolm says, looking from his mother back to Gil. "I'm fine."

His mother and Gil share a knowing look before she turns back to him, scoffing lightly. She leans down and presses a kiss against his forehead, patting his arm and saying, "I'll be back soon, dear."

Once she's gone, Gil drops into the seat at Malcolm's side with a tired sigh. He lets the quiet sit between them for a minute before glancing over at him. He says, almost conversationally, "You gave Dani a good scare last night."

He winces. "I did?"

"Yeah, total shutdowns like that tend to worry people," Gil says. Then the dreaded question, "How are you really?"

"I'll be okay," Malcolm says, sagging back against the pillows.

He doesn't actually say he's okay, just that he's going to be, and somehow even that feels like a lie. But if Gil catches that he doesn't call him on it. Just side-eyes him slightly suspiciously.

"What really happened back there? With Watkins?"

Cops and their knack for asking unwanted questions. How's he supposed to answer that?

 _He tried to kill you_ , Malcolm's mind supplies him.

Not Watkins. Well, yes, Watkins. But that's sort of a given. It's that _he_ tried to kill him. His own father tried to kill him.

His own serial killer father, and somehow he's still surprised. Hurt, even.

"I don't know if I'm up for giving a statement yet," Malcolm tries.

"That's fine," Gil says with an encouraging nod. "But I'm not asking as a cop in need of a statement, Malcolm. I'm asking as a friend."

He shifts, his discomfort in part due to the ever present, if dull, ache in his side and in part due to the questioning. But he knows Gil means it when he says he's asking as a friend. And he knows Gil's going to be there as a friend when he is ready to talk about it, if he ever is, and right now he thinks he's more content with shutting down.

"Can we talk about something else?"

Something sad flickers in Gil's expression, but he smiles and says, "Sure thing, kid. What d'you wanna talk about?"

* * *

Dani and JT show up a short time later.

JT seems content to let Malcolm believe he's only just swinging by, but Gil's statement from earlier confirms otherwise, as do the dark circles below his eyes.

He does feel bad, for being the cause of all their worry, however little his say in the matter actually was.

They only talk for a few minutes or so before they're being called away. They still have other cases to work, after all. Before leaving, JT switches the television in Malcolm's room on to the sports channel, offering a pointed look and a quip about getting some real culture.

Dani loiters a second after JT vanishes through the door.

She turns towards him once or twice like she's about to say something, before deciding against it and turning to follow after JT.

"Dani, wait," Malcolm says without thinking. She stops. Turns. Waits expectantly. Right, he's supposed to follow that up with something. He clears his throat and says, "You uh...You looked over here twice before turning to leave."

"And you're profiling me," she says with a sigh.

"Was there something you wanted to say?"

She frowns, glancing down at her boots before looking back up at him and nodding. She shrugs and says, "I was going to ask how you're doing."

"I'm fine," he says, more on instinct than anything else. But she gives a polite nod and turns to leave, and Malcolm finds himself blurting, "When faced with a threat your brain is conditioned to respond with different defensive modes, it's a survival mechanism."

Dani squints at him, but she takes a small step away from the door, back towards him. "You're talking about fight or flight."

"Yes. But there's a third reaction. Freeze. It's accompanied by a parasympathetically dominated heartrate deceleration, instead of the sympathetically driven heartrate acceleration that comes with fight or flight," he says. And he knows this isn't helping, he can see it in her face, but it's all he can think to say. "Fight or flight isn't always an option."

"What are you getting at?"

He's not sure, actually.

He wants to explain himself. He wants to apologize for worrying her. He wants her to stay.

He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts. With a sigh he says, "Sometimes, after...traumatic events, our brains will shut down. To protect us from further harm. It's an adaptive defense mechanism."

He's almost relieved when she cuts him off. He knows he's not explaining right anyway, and she doesn't look like this is making her feel better. She just looks more annoyed.

"That's real interesting, Bright," Dani says impatiently. "But I didn't ask how our brains work, I asked how _you're_ doing. You specifically."

Malcolm looks away, back towards the window, and mutters, "I know."

"Is giving me a lecture that much easier than just talking to me?" she prompts.

"Actually, yeah, it is," he admits with a forced chuckle. He turns to look back at her, adds, "I'm sorry if I worried you. You kept asking me to talk to you and I--I wanted to, I just couldn't."

Dani offers a small nod, moving to perch at the foot of his bed. She picks the remote up and mutes the television, asking, "So you could hear me?"

"I'm sorry," he says again, giving a small shake of his head.

She hums. "For what?"

Malcolm frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You couldn't control it, you just explained that. Parasympathetic whatever and all that," she says dismissively. She tosses a look over her shoulder and adds, "Besides, who says I worry about you?"

"Gil, actually."

"That snitch."

He smiles and feels mostly real. Dani pats his foot and gets back up, saying, "Alright, I gotta catch up with JT."

"Yeah, okay," he says, nodding.

"I better not see you at the crime scene."

"I have been stabbed, I wasn't even thinking about murder," Malcolm answers, purposely a little overdramatic in his indignation. The truth is, he'd welcome the distraction. A case to work. Something to occupy his mind other than, well, his mind.

Dani can see right through him. That's supposed to be his trick. She rolls her eyes and says, "Behave, maybe I'll let you look at the case files later. Maybe."

"I can ask my mother to bring in some earl gray--you don't want hospital tea, trust me," he says. He quirks an eyebrow and asks, "Tea with friends?"

Truth be told, he doesn't even care if she brings the case files or not. It'll just be nice not to be alone.

Not that he really thinks he's going to be alone. His mother wouldn't hear of it, and he knows Gil will swing by whenever he can. But Dani's a friend. He hasn't had one of those in a long time.

She lingers a second in the doorway before offering a small smile. A nod.

"Tea with friends."

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any medical inaccuracies. i did try to research it, but i'm also booboo the clown, so...
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading!!


End file.
